Snowflakes drawn the curtain,
The wind mutes everything in sight,
I shiver, knowing what is coming,
Whips of frost begin to strike.

My eyes have become mute,
Everything twists in a whirling haze,
The pain does not echo in my heart,
For it has become a burning blaze.

There is no such thing as a phoenix of ice,
Waiting to splendidly be reborn,
As this frozen flame inside of me,
Simply cannot burn.

All that is left to do,
Is to wait for an end to come trough,
Thoughts of light, hopes of fire,
Let them guide my last desire:
Let me die, as many times as needed,
My next life has already been seeded.